


Undetermined

by HannahBananya



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Adventure, Dib isn’t in this one, Doctors, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irkens, Irkens are rude, Medical stuff, Military Backstory, Miyuki is the best tallest, My First Fanfic, Outer Space, Skoodge is nice tho, Tak will be in the last chapter, Zim & Skoodge Friendship, Zim’s life sucks, irken invaders, medics, non-canon compliant, red and purple aren’t the tallests yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 19:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahBananya/pseuds/HannahBananya
Summary: Zim struggles through the final series of  tests that will determine if he is eligible to become an invader.**Probably never going to finish this, sorry.**





	1. Chapter 1

Planet Irk: the home world of the Irken empire; a technologically advanced alien civilization bent on galactic conquest.

Ever since Irken technology had advanced enough that they were capable of exploring the vast space beyond their own planet, they had only one goal:

To conquer it, and make it theirs.

As such, they developed military training bases that began underground and stretched all the way to the planet’s surface.

The military program was designed, ultimately, to train personnel to aid in the empire’s quest for galactic conquest.

There were 4 divisions of the Irken army; Soldiers, Pilots, Spies, and Elites, otherwise known as Invaders.

“Invader” was the pinnacle of those divisions. Invaders were Irkens that had demonstrated mastery over all 3 divisions. It was the highest military rank achievable amongst the common Irken. (One must be taller than average to obtain a higher ranking.)

As such, it was nearly every Irken soldier’s dream to become an invader.

Irken Zim was no exception.

Zim had spent the past several years of his young life training to become an invader. His was one of the smallest in his class. In a societal hierarchy based on, well, height, this put him at quite a disadvantage. The only other Irken who came close to his short size was Skoodge. Skoodge was, in addition, the only other trainee who paid any attention to Zim whatsoever.

_But none of that mattered_ because today was an important day—today he would begin the final series of tests to determine if he was eligible to become an invader. Today he was going to pass the first test: The Soldier’s Test.

It was very early in the morning. Zim was currently in a large, dark room filled with other Irkens from his class. Each Irken lay on a cot with a single, long cable running from the wall behind them and connecting to their PAK to recharge it.

Every Irken with the exception of Zim.

Zim sat upright on his cot, staring straight ahead, eagerly awaiting the “wake up” call. He was in his uniform; gloves, boots and all, ready to go. Invaders did not sleep, _and he was going to be an invader._

A buzzer sounded, and artificial light flooded the room. The door to the room unlocked with a “click” and a strange, computerized voice announced;

“Good morning. Please report to the testing official in the medical wing before taking the [Soldier’s Test]. Failure to report before testing will negate your results.” It was clearly a prerecorded message, with the name of the test having been edited in for this specific announcement.

The other soldiers-in-training promptly disconnected their PAKs from the chargers and changed into their uniforms.

Zim was out the door before the pre-recorded message had even finished.

One Irken, Skoodge, glanced over to the empty cot beside him while he was putting on his boots and frowned. Where was Zim?

Meanwhile, Zim was halfway down the hallway, looking for the doors that would lead to the field where the test would be held.

An irate voice caught his attention, “Just where do you think youʼre going?”

Zim reluctantly stopped and turned around to face the speaker. He was a much taller, higher ranking Irken than he was. If he weren’t, Zim wouldnʼt have bothered to stop and address him.

“I am going to take the Soliderʼs Test.” He spoke quickly, eager to have this confrontation over with with so he could continue making his way to testing.

The taller Irken scoffed, looking down at him, “_Youʼre_ going to be a solider?” He asked incredulously.

Zim, ignoring the Irkenʼs tone, replied, “No, Iʼm going to be an invader.”

There was a brief pause. Then,

“Ahahaha! _You_? A—haha— an _invader_? Ahahaha!”

Zim tapped his foot impatiently while the other Irken laughed. _This was a waste of his precious time—_

“Hey!” A new voice interrupted their conversation (if it could be called that).

A short, stocky Irken from Zimʼs class ran over to him. He was only slightly taller than Zim.

Zim turned to look at him, “Skoodge? What is it?”

The other short Irken, Skoodge, saluted the higher officer and then said to Zim,

“Zim, where are you going? The announcement said we need to report to the testing official before we can take the test.”

Before Zim could reply, the taller Irken spoke up,

“Is that so? Well, lucky for you I happen to be the testing official. I was just on my way to my post.” He regarded the two wannabe-invaders with a sardonic smile.

Skoodge, oblivious, simply smiled back honestly, “Great!”

The officer sneered at him. “Follow me.” He instructed.

Skoodge trotted off after him, glancing over his shoulder a couple times to make sure Zim was coming, too.

Zim followed, albeit at a slower, more reluctant pace. He glared daggers at the back of the testing officialʼs head.

They were led down the hall, the opposite direction Zim had originally been going, and to a set of large, interlocking metal doors.

The testing official placed his hand on a wall scanner by the doors. The scanner lit up green and the metal doors slid into the walls, granting them access through.

The walked through, and the doors stayed open behind them.

Zim and Skoodge were led down a hallway that seemed to stretch on forever and all the way to an unfamiliar section of the building.

Finally, the testing official led them to a door labeled “medical lab” and unlocked it the same way he had with the door to the hallway earlier.

It was a huge room, but it was mostly empty. Only one Irken, this one in a white coat working behind a desk, stood and greeted them. Or, rather, she greeted the testing official.

“Hello, Officer Zutch.”

She was just an inch or so shorter than the testing official, whose name was apparently _Zutch_, but even so, she bowed her head respectively to him as a sign of submission.

Zim watched the interaction with disdain.

Zutch pulled a tablet and pen out of his PAK. He pointed to Zim and Skoodge with the pen lackadaisically.

“I found these two wandering the halls. I guess theyʼre from sector R-61, which is scheduled to take the Soldier’s test today.”

Zim mentally scoffed. _You guess? What kind of incompetent “official” doesn’t know his own testing schedule?_

The medic nodded, “Ah, yes.” She said, “then theyʼll need a physical and maintenance check.”

The sound of footsteps could be heard from the hall. Zim turned to see the rest of sector R-61 lined up in the hallway, waiting.

Zutch noticed them too. He addressed them.

“All right, line up in order of height and weʼll start with the tallest of you and work our way down.”

This was not at all an uncommon practice. The soldiers-in-training immediately rearranged themselves with the tallest at the front of the line, and the shortest in the back.

Zutch nodded, “good.” He then turned to Zim and Skoodge, and pointed to the hallway, “Get in line.”

Skoodge immediately scrambled out into the hall and found his place in line.

Zim, however, argued, “What do you mean “get in line?” I was here first!”

Zutch sneered down at him, “Insubordinate behavior among trainees is grounds for dismissal.”

Antenna flattened, Zim turned on his heel and marched angrily to the very end of the line without another word. 

After what felt like an unreasonably long time, Zim watched Skoodge get called into the office. A few minutes later, Zim was called in.

Zutch was writing on his tablet, and the medic was typing something into a computer. The medic looked up and smiled at him.

“Hello,” she glanced at her computer screen, presumably to read his name, “Zim. I’m Dr. Nix.”

Zim really didnʼt care what her name was. But she did, at the very least, seem more personable than Zutch.

Dr. Nix pointed to a slightly raised platform over by the wall. “Please stand there and stay still.”

Zim stepped onto the platform and waited; he’d done this before as a smeet. Dr. Nix pressed a few buttons on the computer, and after a couple seconds a large, circular scanner came down from the ceiling. It was almost shaped like a donut. It emit a low buzzing sound as it powered on.

The scanner came down over the platform and scanned Zim with a bright green light. He shut his eyes as it passed over his face. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it retracted back into the ceiling.

The computer displayed all the information from the scan. Everything from basic info like Zimʼs height, weight, and temperature to more complex, in-depth readings such as his heart rate and brain waves. There was even a 360° skeletal X-ray displayed.

Zim hopped off the platform and walked over to her desk while Zutch copied the information onto his tablet.

No problems thus far. Dr. Nix held up a cable that was attached to the computer.

“I’ll need to use this to get a scan of your PAK.”

Zim snatched the cable from her hands and plugged it into his PAK. _This was taking forever and he was supposed to be taking the Soldier’s test now—_

The scan finished and the computer loaded a diagnostic of his PAK.

Dr. Nix frowned, “Oh, that’s...” she trailed off.

Zim snapped to attention. “What? What is it?” He asked.

He looked at the screen. It read;

“Irken ID: ZIM

Status: Online/Conscious

Memory Drive: Online

Life Support: Online

Weapons: Online

Charging Cell: 64%

Encoding: Trainee”

He was able to access that information on his own. It looked right. What was her problem?

Dr. Nix turned to Zim. She wrung her hands nervously, “I’m sorry, you can’t take the Soldier’s test with less than 90% charge on your PAK.”

“What!?” Zim yelled, “That’s not—that shouldn’t—_why_?!” He was _not _going to miss the Soldier’s test because some stupid medic drone made him fail his _physical_.

Dr. Nix explained, “The test is a very lengthy, complicated obstacle course. It typically takes 2-3 hours to complete. Within that time, you are subjected to a variety of obstacles designed to mimic those that soldiers encounter in battle. Even the strongest of Irkens are fatigued afterwards.” She gestured to his PAK, “If you overexert yourself without sufficient power to your charging cell, then your PAK won’t be able to do its job.”

Its job was to keep him alive, but she didn’t have to tell him that.

Dr. Nix looked him over carefully, feeling concerned. “I don’t understand why it isn’t fully charged to begin with. Do you feel unwell?” The scans of his body shell looked normal, but PAK malfunctions didn’t always show up on those.

Zim shook his head, “No, I’m fine. I need to take the test!” He was about ready to push past her _and_ officer Zutch and run to the testing field despite them. No doubt the first wave of testing had already started. He’d have to join the second.

Dr. Nix stared at the data displayed on the computer and turned to look at Zim incredulously, “Did...did you not charge your PAK last night?” She asked.

“No.” He replied simply.

“...Why not?”

“Zim needs no sleep! Invaders do not need to sleep, and neither do I.” He announced proudly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m training to become an _invader_!”

The medic stared at him in disbelief. Sleeping and charging ones PAK usually went together, though they could be done separately if desired. But to have not done _either_…

Zutch spoke up, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. What made you think invaders don’t sleep?”

Zim opened his mouth to reply with something that was undoubtedly absurd, but Zutch cut him off.

“Never mind, I don’t care.” Writing on his tablet, he finished, “All right _Zim_,” he spat the smaller Irkens name like a curse, “you failed your physical: you’ll have to wait another 10 years before you can apply to take the test again.”

Zim stared in horror. “Wait! No! I can do it! You can’t— _wait_!” The waiting periods for things like this were insane. What was he supposed to do for _10 years_?!

Zutch had already put his tablet away and was heading out the door. He overheard Dr. Nix talking to Zim,

“I’m sorry, Zim; but it just isn’t safe. Besides, you can still try again. Unlike if you’d failed the test itself.”

Zutch stopped in his tracks. She was actually trying to console him. Unbelievable.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him; if Zim took the test and failed it, he’d never have to deal with the little annoyance again. But if he stayed stationed here for 10 years waiting to reapply, he’d likely have to deal with him _every day. For 10 years_.

Zutch paused, mulling over his options.

Just then, a red light on the desk flashed and a computerized voice repeatedly warned of a “code 73 in testing field 8”

“Oh, not again.” Dr. Nix quickly grabbed a case full of medical supplies and ran out of the room, hitting a switch on the way out that shut off the warning system.

Zutch figured someone had been injured during the Soldier’s Test. That happened _a lot_. Turning his attention to the computer, he noticed Zim’s file was still up. Zutch had an idea. He walked over to it and started typing.

Zim eyed him suspiciously, “Hey! What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m changing your health record so you can take the Soldier’s Test today.” He replied.

Zim looked confused. “Huh?” But he his demeanor quickly changed, “I mean, yes! As you should!” _Finally, this moronic Zutch had realized just how truly amazing Zim was, and was going to give him the opportunity to prove himself that he so rightly deserved._

With Zim’s file successfully changed, the status bar next to his name switched from a frowny face to a smiley face. Zutch updated his notepad accordingly.

“Victory for Zim!” Zim cheered triumphantly, in third person.

Zutch raised a brow at Zim’s bizarre behavior, but made no comment.

Tucking his notepad back in his PAK, he motioned for Zim to follow him out of the room.

“Come with me, you’ll be tested in field 8.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can see a character reference sheet, here: https://www.deviantart.com/invader-jax/art/Character-List-Height-Reference-813864011

Zim followed Zutch outside to testing field 8. It was _huge_. It stretched on farther than he could see. He recognized some of the obstacles as those used in training, but there were others he wasn’t as familiar with. Far in the distance, he could barely make out a few small figures running the course. As he’d expected, the first group of trainees had already been sent out; he’d have to wait for the second group.

As Zim took in his surroundings, he heard the mechanical click of the door locking behind him. Zutch had gone back inside without another word. That was fine—Zim had no need of him now.

Zim spotted the remainder of his sector in a line, standing with their backs to the building as they waited for the first group to finish. It looked like they were lined up according to height. Again.

So, Zim tagged onto the end of the line, behind Skoodge.

Skoodge was, of course, the only one to notice him.

“Hey Zim, everything okay? You were in the medic’s lab a while.” When Zim still hadn’t shown up by the time the first group had started testing, Skoodge had been a little concerned that he hadn’t passed his physical.

Zim narrowed his eyes, “Of course! Don’t be ridiculous.”

Just then, Zim saw Dr. Nix and a few other medics bringing an injured trainee off the field course and into the building. He was strapped on to a hovering gurney, but was angrily telling off the medics.

Zim could make out what he was saying as he got closer. “…I’m telling you; he _pushed_ me! That stupid Red; he pushed me off—_it’s his fault_! I don’t deserve to fail!” 

It didn’t look like anyone was listening to him. Dr. Nix used her ID badge to unlock the building, and the hovering gurney and other medics followed her inside.

The door locked behind them once again.

Zim stared at the door where they had disappeared, then turned to Skoodge.

“Did you hear that, Skoodge?” he asked the other Irken. “I can’t believe it!”

Skoodge shook his head, “Yeah, Red’s a real jerk-”

Zim cut him off, beaming, “Red is _so_ _cool_! The way he sacrificed that other guy—”

Skoodge tried to interject, “I think that was Bob,” but Zim kept talking.

“—so he could reach the goal—that’s the resolve of a true invader!”

Skoodge leaned back against the wall and sighed. Zim had looked up to Red, as well as a few other, taller Irkens in their sector, as long as he could remember. It didn’t seem to matter to him what they did; as far as he was concerned, anything they did was _cool_ because they were _tall_. Trying to argue with Zim would be pointless. So, he didn’t.

Luckily, Zim didn’t care if Skoodge had nothing to say on the matter. Zim was the kind of Irken who would talk to anyone who didn’t outright threaten him into shutting up. So, like most of their conversations, Zim talked and Skoodge listened. 

“The realization that the most important part of anything is success—no matter how it is achieved—is the key to unlocking one’s true potential.” Zim paced back and forth as he ranted, “If you can do something, then you should! Consequences are irrelevant.”

Skoodge twitched an antenna. That sounded like a philosophy destined to fail. Perhaps Zim was still thinking in regards to the holographic simulations they grew up with. A soldier with disregard for consequences…that was a dangerous combination.

There was a static noise from above. An automated message played over the speakers from the building:

“Hello, Trainees. Your goal is to complete the course ahead of you. This course is designed to simulate all potential obstacles Irken soldiers face in battle. Success is determined by completion. If you are injured and unable to complete the course, you will receive a failing mark and be taken to the infirmary. Death during the test is also coinstantaneous to failure. The Soldier’s Test will begin when you hear a buzzer.”

The remaining members of sector R-61 made their way to the starting point. Skoodge looked out at the long stretch ahead of him, calculating the best way to get through the obstacles he could see. He knew he wasn’t much of a runner, but what he lacked in speed he made up for in careful planning.

Zim on the other hand, was beside himself with excitement. He could barely stand still; the anticipation was unbearable. He wanted _so badly_ to prove himself to be a worthy member of the Irken empire by becoming an elite invader, and passing this test would lead him one step closer to that goal.

The buzzer sounded from above.

And everyone ran.

Despite his small size, Zim was able to keep up with and even outrun some of the taller members of his sector. Up ahead, the first obstacle was a wall. Naturally, the objective was to get past it. This could be done via climbing, or, if one was particularly ambitious, even digging. Zim however, saw things a little differently than most.

If it’s in the way, then the best thing to do is _blow it up_.

Still running, Zim aimed the lasers from his PAK at the wall and shot a concentrated beam of energy at it. The wall crumbled, and Zim jumped over the rubble with ease.

The Irkens that had been running alongside him slowed pace and fell back a tad, eyeing Zim warily. Zim grinned as they backed out of his line of vision; _success!_

Skoodge was far enough behind everyone else that he wasn’t worried. Even if he could, he knew better than to get close to Zim during something like this.

The next obstacle was a bit more complicated. It was a long, deep trench. There were two, narrow walkways parallel from one another leading across. Every few seconds, one of the walkways would light up, crackling with electricity, while the other became dormant. There was no pattern; it was completely random as to which walkway was safe and which was electrified. However, the path did flash brightly before it became electrified, and the intervals between electrocutions appeared to stay the same. 

Zim stopped before the pathways, panting. He looked back and forth between them, waiting to perfect his timing. Then, he jumped onto the non-electrified path, using all fours to balance himself initially, before standing up. He took careful, deliberate steps forward. He could feel the electric currents around him. He saw a brief flash beneath his feet, and he quickly jumped to the other side.

The path he was on just a second ago lit up; high voltage arcing around it. Determined, he continued onward. He didn’t dare look back.

He was eventually able to count the seconds between intervals and predict the change before the path he was on sparked to life.

Zim was nearly to the end when he tripped;

He tried to right himself, but it was too late. He fell off the walkway and had to use his PAK legs to catch onto it and pull himself back up. It only took a few seconds, but it threw his timing off. The walkway he was standing on snapped to life, electrocuting him.

His vision swam and his heart beat painfully in his chest. Zim grit his teeth and held onto the walkway with everything he had. He’d been electrocuted before—all Irkens had. For them, electricity was life-giving. They needed it for their PAKs. But it could also be life-ending.

Luckily for Zim, there was not enough electricity in the walkway to kill anyone; just enough to give them a nasty shock.

The second it stopped, Zim pitched forward and grabbed onto the ground on the other side of the trench. He scrambled away from the metal walkways, trembling slightly.

He stood up, feeling dazed. He shook his head as though to clear it, then looked back at the walkways proudly. _He did it._

“Victory!” he shouted.

His voice startled some trainee on the walkway, making them look up at him. They were promptly electrocuted as well. They were unable to catch themselves with their PAK legs, and fell into the trench below.

Zim laughed at their misfortune, boasting, “Ha! Truly none can compete with Zim!”

Zim turned around and continued running the course, looking readily ahead.

He ran in the front for a while, but eventually was passed by some of the taller trainees. After that, he was passed by a few more Irkens. He couldn’t figure out how everyone was suddenly so much faster than before. It wasn’t until Skoodge appeared beside him that he realized the others weren’t speeding up, rather, he was slowing down.

Skoodge jogged at a moderate pace; he didn’t mind being in the back. There was no time limit on the test, and it wasn’t like he had anything else to do today afterwards. He was a little surprised when Zim fell back beside him, though. He’d figured Zim would just use his PAK legs to stay in the lead when his legs got tired.

Zim mentally cursed his luck—that electrocution had disabled his auxiliary PAK functions. No lasers, spider legs, _nothing_. He was stuck in the back with Skoodge until he caught his breath, which was not coming as easily as it should’ve been.

Up ahead, he could see the next obstacle; a line of motion detecting turrets mounted on pillars on both sides of the field. The turrets rotated slowly, searching for a target. As the turrets on the left rotated to face the outside of the field, the turrets on the right rotated to face inward, and vice versa. Timing would be crucial.

Skoodge stopped a good way before the turret field, taking a moment to both regroup and strategize. Zim stopped next to him, wheezing.

Skoodge was taken aback by the sight of Zim; the smaller Irken was doubled over with his hands on his knees, taking in desperate lungfuls of air. The usually silent mechanisms in his PAK were whirring loud enough that Skoodge could hear them.

Skoodge was by no means the most athletic Irken in their sector, to put it mildly, but even _he_ wasn’t having that much trouble with the course.

Turret field forgotten for the moment, Skoodge looked at his comrade worriedly.

“Zim?” He started, “Are you…okay?”

Skoodge was hesitant to ask; Zim had a tendency to blow up into a rage anytime someone showed concern for him. He didn’t know _why_, it was just…something Zim had always done.

Zim “answered” him by face-planting into the dirt.

Skoodge immediately knelt down next to him. “Zim!? Zim, can you hear me?” he asked, doing his best to keep the worry he felt from creeping through into his voice.

Zim said nothing, but the bottom port on his PAK flashed red off and on.

Skoodge was neither a medic, nor an engineer. Ever since he and Zim had escaped to the surface as smeets, there was almost an unspoken rule of “wherever you go, I’ll go” between them. Skoodge had always been very obedient; he was told to do something and he did it, no questions asked, to the best of his ability. Zim was the opposite; he was told to do something, and he wanted to know why. If the “why” was an acceptable answer, then he would do it, though not necessarily the way it was supposed to be done. And if the “why” didn’t suit him, he didn’t do it at all.

Escaping to the surface had been the most exciting part of his young life, and Skoodge felt grateful to Zim for taking him along. That was why when tiny, loud, smeet-Zim wanted to become an invader, quiet, impressionable, smeet-Skoodge had wanted to follow him.

Unfortunately, this meant that Skoodge had never pursued any other type of education. He did not know how the mechanics of the PAK functioned, and he certainly had no experience with the inner workings of the Irken body.

What he _did_ know, was that if Zim stayed where he was, unmoving, a medic would be sent to the field to retrieve him and he would fail the test.

Skoodge looked up. Most of the other trainees had made it past the turret field now. There were a few scorch marks on the ground where the turrets had fired, and one of the turrets was missing from its pillar entirely.

That was strange, where was the—? 

A ground-shaking crash reverberated through the field as the mangled remains of the severed turret landed less than five feet behind them.

Skoodge stared up at the smoking heap of scrap metal, then looked down at Zim. The smaller Irken was still unconscious, but his gasping breaths had slowed considerably. Skoodge looked pensive.

Zim’s words from earlier echoed in his mind_ “…If you can do something, then you should!”_

Skoodge’s gaze flicked back to the turret, and he bit his lip, “_Well,” _he thought,_ “this would certainly be something._”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, any thoughts on what Skoodge is gonna do with that turret?  
Thanks for reading~


End file.
